Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 30

**OZ**

Clarence taps his cane and peers at Kacia through his comically thick glasses. He looks like every children’s book picture of a cranky old witch, except with worse fashion sense and a patchy beard that seems to have made a deal with gravity to only partially exist.

“I have a job for you.” He tells Kacia. Kacia sits up a little straighter beside me, clearly somewhere between intrigued and nervous. I don’t know this man, but Kacia seems to respect him. 

“What kind of job?” She asks. I fight the urge to frown or object. Should she be taking a new job right now? She’s exhausted, she should be resting and recovering. Maybe she’s just asking to hear a little more about it. It might not be an urgent job anyway. Clarence clears his throat. 

“A hellhound’s gone missing.” He says casually. That gets my attention. My tail flicks once behind me. 

“Hellhound? As in… Demon dog with flaming eyes and a taste for souls? You know they can’t exist outside of the demonic realms right?” I point out, before I can stop myself. Clarence snorts, but doesn’t look at me. 

“No, not YOUR kind of hellhound. He’s a teenage shifter who answers to Dave. Been gone five days. Should’ve turned up by now, but he didn’t. I’m worried he’s gotten himself into trouble. Or eaten something enchanted. Or tried to chase a goose or some other equally stupid thing. Who knows with hellhounds.” Clarence sighs dramatically. Kacia just nods, like this is all perfectly normal. 

“Any signs of foul play? Has anyone filed a missing persons report?” She asks. She seems pretty relaxed for someone asking about a missing person. 

“Nah. Not Dave’s style. He doesn’t get involved in anything sketchy, He’s a sweet kid, just easily distracted. He probably got lost, or chased a squirrel into the middle of nowhere and forgot how to get home. But it’s been long enough that his family are starting to worry. He wouldn’t ignore his mother this long without a good reason.” Clarence explains, twirling his beard in between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Right. I’ll find him.” Kacia says without hesitation. And I internally reel back a little. Now? Now is when she’s taking on new work? She was paralysed not that long ago. She’s still moving like she’s made of wet spaghetti. Also someone tried to kill her this morning. There’s a target on her back. And her first instinct is to go sniffing after a missing wolf boy named Dave? Is she not concerned that she was attacked? Shouldn’t her priority be figuring out who the basilisk woman is? I might already know who sent her, but Kacia doesn’t know that! I don’t say any of this, of course. I just watch her carefully, trying not to let my concern show. She’s stubborn. Proud. I know better than to tell her she can’t handle something, especially when she’s trying so hard to act like she’s fine in front of this old witch that she clearly respects. Still. I keep my tail curled loosely around her ankle for reassurance. Although I don’t know if the reassurance is for her or me. Also, I still have no idea what they mean by hellhound. They said a wolf shifter, how is that a hellhound. 

“Sorry, I’m still stuck on the part where you’re looking for a hellhound  named Dave. Am I supposed to know what a hellhound is in this context?” I ask dryly. Kacia glances at me with a crooked smile. 

“It’s just a local nickname. Hellhounds are what we call teenage wolf shifters. When their abilities first come in, they sort of… Lose their minds for a few years. Not only do they learn to shift, but their senses become more sensitive which is pretty uncomfortable and their instincts go a little haywire. They’re fast, strong, over sensitive, emotional disasters. Like golden retrievers with a caffeine addiction. They run around and cause chaos. Hell, I bet some of them forget their own names. But they’re still wolf shifters so they’re fiercely loyal. And very sweet. It’s probably the only reason anyone is willing to put up with their antics. Besides, eventually they mellow out. Usually in their thirties.” Kacia explains. Huh, I had heard that shifters experienced a rather prolonged adolescence. But I didn’t quite realise what they meant by that. 

“So they’re like overgrown toddlers.” I sum up.

“Exactly.  But with better lung capacity and worse impulse control.” She responds. Clarence grunts, drawing her attention back to him.

“You’ll take the job then?” He confirms. 

“I’ll start looking first thing in the morning.” Kacia replies with a nod. Clarence seems satisfied. 

“Good. Here are his details, name, parents address. All that stuff. If you need more information, talk to them. They’re the ones offering a reward for tracking him down.” He hands her a slip of paper which she folds and tucks into her pocket. Clarence nods and mutters something about ‘damn hellhounds and their squirrel chases’ before hobbling away, swinging his cane like it’s a sword he’s considering using not a tool to help him get around. Kacia turns to me with a spark in her eyes that makes me feel equal parts admiration and exhaustion. I say nothing. Just lean back slightly and sigh. I guess tomorrow we’re looking for a hellhound. 

Eventually, we decide it’s time to head home. Kacia’s car is still parked near the magic shop. I tentatively offer to go get it for her. And she refuses. That was probably wise of her. I carried her here in the first place for a reason. I don’t actually know HOW to operate a car. I’ve studied the theory. Pedals, wheel, mirrors. But I've never tried it. While I could probably, maybe get it here safely, somehow I think now isn’t the time to experiment. So, we walk. Once again, she refuses to let me carry her, though I offer more than once. She does, however, accept my arm, and clings to it without comment. I pretend not to notice the way her fingers curl tightly around my sleeve. I pretend not to enjoy the closeness. I absolutely do. Her steps are small and careful. Her feet are still dragging a little, like every muscle in her body is still trying to remember how to exist. So we go slow. It’s not too cold out. The street is quiet, but as we get closer to where she was attacked I begin to notice that her scent is layered with stress and fatigue, but under it there’s something softer. Something familiar. We continue to walk in comfortable silence for a while.

“So. You saved my life. I guess that means we’re even now. That means your demon deal thing is over, right?” Kacia suddenly blurts out. I stop. Turn my head to look at her. She’s staring straight ahead, like she hasn’t just upended my entire brain with one sentence.

“Thank you, by the way…” She adds, her voice a little quieter. Less sure. I sigh. 

“We’re not even.” I tell her firmly. She blinks up at me. 

“Why not? I saved you. You saved me. That’s even.” She says, clearly confused.

“It’s not the same.” I say, shaking my head. She frowns, puzzled. 

“What? Why not?” She asks. I want to tell her. I want her to understand. But if I say it out loud, I think it’ll sound worse than it feels. So I just shrug and continue to walk in silence, feeling the weight of the words I haven’t spoken. It is a completely different situation. SHE saved a stranger. Someone who might’ve killed her. She didn’t know who I was, what I was, or what I’d been sent to do. But she still chose to save me. It was completely selfless. Me? I saved someone I care about. Someone I’m, damn it, falling for probably. Protecting Kacia isn’t just noble or selfless anymore. It’s selfish. If she died, it would hurt me. I’d be the one in pain. That’s not the same thing at all. It’s going to take a lot more than scaring off a single basilisk to make us even. Kacia seems distracted, probably trying to work out what I meant when she stumbles suddenly on a crack in the pavement. I catch her without thinking. Her body presses against mine for a breathless second, all that shaky weight trusting me to hold her up. And I do. I sweep her into my arms, ignoring her tiny noise of protest, cradling her like she weighs nothing. Kacia looks at me, really looks at me. And for the first time, it’s not cautious or suspicious or exasperated. There’s something else there. Something unguarded. Her eyes lock with mine, and the moment stretches between us, the air is tense as her eyes acknowledge something she has been pretending not to notice since the first time we met. 

“Thank you.” She whispers. Two words. Soft, hoarse, and breathless. But they land like a spell cast with full intention. Quiet, honest and raw. I don’t know if she’s thanking me for saving her earlier today or for catching her just now, but I feel it ripple through me. It’s the way she says it, like it means more than just gratitude. Like it’s layered with things neither of us know how to name yet. Or maybe neither of us are ready to name these feelings. She shifts slightly in my arms, the faintest lean. Closer. And I, completely helpless to resist, do the same. The air between us goes still. Even the sounds of the street seem to go quiet in anticipation. Her breath brushes my lips. Warm and shaky. I can’t breathe. I think I’m about to kiss her.